If you fear your father more than you love me, then your love is not what I hoped it was."
"Ah, my friend!" she said, going to him.
"Do I fear anything?" he demanded, turning round on her. "For your sake what am I not ready to face?"
"You are noble—you are brave!" she answered, stopping short at a distance that was almost respectful.
"Small good it does me, if you are so timid."
"I don't think that I am—really," said Catherine.
"I don't know what you mean by 'really.' It is really enough to make us miserable."
"I should be strong enough to wait—to wait a long time."
"And suppose after a long time your father should hate me worse than ever?"
"He wouldn't—he couldn't!"
"He would be touched by my fidelity? Is that what you mean? If he is so easily touched, then why should you be afraid of him?"
This was much to the point, and Catherine was struck by it. "I will try not to be," she said.
